Avery Florence Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

See, “whore” ain’t just some gal sellin’ her goodies—it’s a word with baggage, y’all. Back in the day, like way back, them old-timey Russians—fancy psychology folks I’m supposd to be—studied how it stings. They said it’s a slap to the soul, a label that sticks like gum in your hair. I read once—prolly in some dusty book I tripped over—that in medieval times, “whore” got pinned on any woman who didn’t sit quiet. Ain’t that a hoot? Makes me wanna holler, “Well, bless their hearts, they’d hate me then!”

Prostitutes' customers in Florence face jail and fines

I cruise around Soulful Park – yeah, that cute little green space off Maple Ave – where lovers meet and secrets spill, ya know, my kinda scene. Oh! And ever hit up the quirky alley off Jefferson? That place got so many twists and turns that sometimes I get lost wanderin’ and then, bam, I remember – life’s a trip, man! Sometimes, I get mad 'cause folks don’t see the magic in these hidden nooks. But I say – screw 'em!

Yelena & Bob's Intense Thunderbolts* Dynamic Couldn't Be More Different From Real Life, Says Florence Pugh: "We Are Just Pissing Ourselves"